Too Busy Being Yours (To Fall For Somebody New)
by Welcome2MyWorldxoxo
Summary: Prompt: #46: Pleasure/Pain. E/B. Bella is tiny. Like, 5ft tall on a good day. Edward is at least 6'2. The height difference is a turn on for them both. She loves looking up at her big strong man. He loves protecting his little girl. Problem is, Bella's tiny everywhere. Edward has trouble fitting inside her. Maybe there are a few tears. It hurts so good.
**Prompt: #46: Pleasure/Pain. E/B. Bella is tiny. Like, 5ft tall on a good day. Edward is at least 6'2. The height difference is a turn on for them both. She loves looking up at her big strong man. He loves protecting his little girl. Problem is, Bella's tiny everywhere. Edward has trouble fitting inside her. Maybe there are a few tears. It hurts so good.**

 **Title: Too Busy Being Yours (To Fall For Somebody New)**

 **Rating: NC17**

 **Relevant Content Warnings: Just your run of the mill, size kink smut.**

 **AN: This was hell to write. It took six drafts and eight months to complete, but I did it! Just a reminder that if this isn't your thing, don't read it. Close the tab/window and move on. No haters allowed! So enjoy and drop me a line to tell me what you think. And FYI, Edward's name is weird for a reason. See endnotes for details on that.**

They were lying along the length of the couch, her splayed out on top of him, her head tucked beneath his chin as her thighs strained to reach around his torso. A soft, low yawn escaped her, and her eyes drifted shut, the fight to stay awake weakening the deeper she sank against him. The warm familiarity of his presence soothed the frayed edges of her nerves after what had been a long and difficult week. Curling up on top of Addie, the lights low, bathing the room in a soft, warm glow, was just what Bee needed to ease the headache that had been lingering at the forefront of her brain.

His large hands cupped her waist gently, the feel of his thick, calloused fingers against her bare skin beneath the plaid shirt she'd stolen from his closet making an involuntary shiver wrack through her body. His grip on her waist tightened at the subtle tremors, his hands large enough to almost fully wrap around the circumference of her midriff, fingers just shy of meeting.

Bee's lips quirked slightly at his strong grip, secretly delighting at how small and delicate she felt cradled against his large body. Addie's body swallowed her own, his "6'4, 200 pound frame dwarfing her "5'1, 120 pound figure easily, the broad stretch of his shoulders impossibly wide, and the thick ropes of tattooed muscle that made up his body intimidating. She'd seen him fight, cheered him on during his MMA matches, felt that wicked little thrill of excitement shoot up her spine at the thought of how easily he could overpower her. Unlike his opponents, her petite stature was ill equipped to combat the raw strength she knew was hidden beneath the surface of his skin, and the evidence of that only served to increase her desire for him.

It had surprised and embarrassed her, at first, how turned on watching him fight got her. There was just something about the way his sweat slicked skin would glisten under the harsh lights, the thick cords of his rippling muscles flexing that made a warm, soft ache throb dully between her thighs. She would find herself flushed, and her heart thrumming wildly in her chest as she yelled and screamed along with the crowd, the mass of people around her so completely unaware of what would come afterward. That, when it was all over, it would be her trapped between his thighs, pinned beneath the bulk of his weight until she tapped out from pure exhaustion.

Before Bee had dated Addie, she had never been into guys like him, one's with rough edges and grit, the kind of guys who'd grown up fighting for every scrap they received and had never quite learned to stop fighting. She'd been brought up by her Catholic, Guatemalan grandmother in a sheltered, lower middle class environment. Addie, on the other hand, had spent his childhood in the system, being passed from one group home to another until he'd aged out.

Addie didn't hide the fact that he was a little scarred, a little messed up, each tattoo engraved into his body an immortalization of a past scar. The fact that his arms alone were covered from shoulder to wrist in brightly colored tattoo sleeves said more than he was ever willing to admit, but Bee had learned pretty quickly that his scars weren't the sum of who he was. It was his quiet persistence and gentle, but steady nature that had drawn her to him, and it was those traits that allowed her to wake up each morning knowing her heart was safe with him.

Bee traced a path up along the inside of his forearm to the crease of his elbow, following the lines of his tattoos as they weaved in out of each other in bursts of color. He shifted beneath her, muscles tensing and contracting as he reached for her, threading his fingers in the snarl of her thick, loose, raven curls until he was cupping the side of her head. He didn't pull her hair, or use his grip to coax her to his will, just held her, almost possessively, his strength apparent in his grip.

Her blood hummed at his touch, the rough, calloused pads of his fingers pressing against her scalp, caressing, massaging, soothing away the last tendrils of her headache. She released a hot gush of air, unable to control the way her body arched, pressing closer, her eyelids fluttering shut as she nestled deeper in his hold, burying her face against his bare shoulder. She fit perfectly against him, her small form cradled by the broad stretch of his body, nestled in the cage of his strong arms. The familiar scent of cloves mixed with something darker, like a slow running liquor, filtered through her senses, his concentrated, masculine scent earthy yet sharp in her nostrils.

It took effort to restrain the shiver that begged to wrack through her body. The years they had been together had done little to dull that innate attraction that always left her a little breathless, a little tense against the pull that tugged at her like some kind of gravitational force. For all she had hoped it would fade, that she would eventually become used to being the focus of his attention, he still made her head stupid, and her heart fucking ache.

She was almost certain he could hear how her heart quickened as she slipped a hand over the bridge of his freckled shoulder, feeling the cords of muscle bunch beneath her fingers as she curled them around the back of his neck. He groaned lightly, the sound reverberating through his chest at the tug of her fingers twisting in the copper hairs at the nape of his neck. She nuzzled against the line of his stubbled jaw, lips soft against the coarseness of the short bristles. His grip on her tightened almost imperceptibly as he tilted his head down, gliding his nose across her cheek, not stopping until it hit her own. He dragged it along the curve of hers, rubbing, nuzzling until her chest felt too full, bubbling over with something that she couldn't quite name. The closest description she could find was that she felt coddled.

It wasn't a feeling she'd had much experience with before she'd dated him, his ability to be able to reduce her to the shy, needy girl she thought she'd banished a long time ago both freeing and incredibly frustrating. After a lifetime of guarding herself, Addie had carefully peeled back the layers of her outer protective shell until he found the sensitive, delicate soul that resided within her, her fierce independence softening into something almost tame.

She tipped her head back, straining to reach his lips, needing to feel them, to lose herself in the texture of him. It was its own kind of worst tease, the way he held himself back, their lips hovering, barely ghosting, breaths mingling in the air between them. He swallowed tightly, the slow, almost lazy blink of her exotic, dark cocoa eyes as disarming as the first time he'd caught her eye. He inhaled sharply through his nose, drawing a steadying breath in an effort to temper his reaction to her, his stomach tight and clenched like a fist, the ache migrating down to his groin reminiscent to that of a spreading bruise.

He tilted his head, slowly closing the last inch between them, a little startled gasp escaping her as the tip of his tongue dipped, hot and wet, between her lips, the barbell running through his tongue clicking against her teeth. He didn't linger, withdrawing as quickly as he had entered, his tongue dragging along the inside of her lip as it retreated, but it was enough to make her skin pebble and warmth pool in her stomach. She was trembling, small shivers wracking through her body as she drew her top lip into her mouth, trying to get just a taste of him, to memorize and hold it inside her like a keepsake.

He pulled her back down, their eyes meeting, lingering, for a brief moment before their mouths connected. They traded soft, open mouthed kisses without preamble or expectation, just wanting to ground themselves in the feel of the other's lips caressing their own. Moving almost without noticing, their mouths slanted across each other, adjusting to the cues of each other's bodies until they were in sync, mirroring each breath, each twitch the other made effortlessly. They weren't tentative, lips molding passionately, while keeping an almost lazy, languid pace that lacked any real urgency as they continually drew back, letting their lips separate for a brief moment before the gravitational pull of their bodies dragged them back together. Their mouths parted wetly against each other, opening, touching, yet always drawing back, the resistance only serving to make them burn for more. The was a certain delicacy to the way they kissed, a tenderness that coaxed, urging, kindling the fire between them, their soft pants and sighs sounding sharp in the quiet.

His stubble scratched lightly at her cheeks and chin, sending pinpricks of heat through her body that made her thighs clench tighter around his waist in an effort to suppress the urge to squirm against him. She was needy, mouth demanding as she took his top lip between hers, sucking and nipping gently, yet hungrily, her shoulders hunching, rising, as she pressed herself closer, her hands cradling his jaw.

He let her lead the kiss, content to be the recipient of her desire,. The hand that had been curled around the curve of her waist fisted the back of her shirt, dragging the fabric up her spine, bunching it around her ribs in an effort to feel more of her skin. The kiss deepened, soft, wet tongues tangling, stroking and darting into each other's mouth, the exchange of saliva obvious to anyone who would have witnessed the kiss. It wasn't the kind of kissing that would have been appropriate for anywhere outside of their apartment, the way their mouths opened, accepting the other, swollen lips slanting, pushing, molding against each other obscene.

She squirmed against the tight muscles of his stomach, her arousal sharpening, wishing, not for the first time, that she was tall enough for their bodies lined up. It had taken some awkward fumbling in the beginning of their relationship for them to realise that the fact that her head was level with his upper pectoral muscles when standing meant that there was no way they could make out and dry hump at the same time, at least not in this position. It wasn't just his legs that were longer than hers, but also his torso, which meant that their pelvis' and mouths were rarely in contact at the same time without a certain amount of stretching and manoeuvring.

His pulse jumped and throbbed beneath his skin as his thumb slid just under the hem of her tight, little yoga shorts to stroke her hipbone, flesh and bone molding around each other to create a rounded, fleshy curve. She was so light on top of him, her body more of a constant, stable pressure than a true weight. And perhaps that shouldn't have aroused him as much as it did, but he'd always kind of gotten off on how small she was in comparison to him. He wouldn't go as far as to call their size difference a kink, but he couldn't deny how hot he found being able to hold her down with one hand, at how easy it was to manhandle her body into whatever position he wanted, folding her in half without so much as breaking a sweat.

Despite her petite stature, Bee's body had always been soft and supple, her thighs thick and her hips wide, the excess fat clinging to her sides and stomach always having made her feel self conscious, but Addie loved it. The way her curves rounded, narrowing at her waist before flaring out at her breasts gave him something to grasp onto, to use as leverage when he fucked her. The upturned globes of her breasts were a perfect handful for his large hands, the way they spilled over his fingers, mounding high on her chest, never ceasing to make his blood heat in his veins.

It seemed ridiculous to him now how hesitant he'd been when they first began dating, so afraid of hurting her that he'd been overly cautious. It had taken time and a willingness to experiment for both of them to adjust to the differences their contrasting sizes afforded them. There was an inherent delicacy to her, something wholly feminine, that belayed the way she reacted to him, her wild, unrestrained lust feeding the prehistoric, primal, almost paradoxical instinct inside him. It was an instinct that called for him to dominate and own, whilst cautioning him to treat her like the fucking princess she was. The realization that she wasn't quite as fragile as he'd first feared, that she wouldn't shatter in his grip, had allowed him to loosen the reins on his closely guarded control, the bruises and marks she walked away from sex with prized instead of condemned.

He chased her lips as she pulled back, the leg hanging off the edge of the couch tensing, his foot bracing against the carpet as he pushed himself up. He tucked his elbow loosely against his side as he propped himself up, the momentum of his body forcing hers back until Bee found herself seated in his lap. Her nails dug lightly into the meat of his pectoral muscles in an effort to balance herself, his warm skin seeming almost scalding beneath her hands.

There wasn't an ounce of fat on him, his chest solid and defined, the hard ridges and valleys of his upper body narrowing down to where his sweatpants hung dangerously low off his hips. They dipped down at the front to show the deep 'v' of his pelvis, his lack of underwear obvious by the half hard cock pressing insistently against her ass.

"Wait," she murmured, the needy sound clicking in the back of his throat as he tried to close the gap she'd made causing her arousal sharpen, the dull throb pulsing through her cunt deepening, intensifying. He looked wrecked, lips pink and swollen, eyes heavy-lidded, his hair mussed, and it took everything for her not to strip him down and ride him right there on the couch.

"I..." she stuttered, glancing down at him from beneath her lashes, her loose, raven curls tousled and falling into her eyes. Her gaze flitted down to his lips, so close to her own that she could feel his breath ghosting across her skin before darting back up to meet his dark gaze. She dragged her teeth over the wet, plush flesh of her bottom lip, slowly rolling it back and forth, not knowing how to clearly communicate what she needed from him.

She couldn't quite figure out how to voice her yearning for the marks, for the dark smudges of his fingers to linger on her skin, for the imprint of his teeth to be branded in her flesh. She felt it, in every muscle in her body, this primal, animal drive to be conquered and mated, to be held down and fucked, truly fucked by someone strong and capable.

His hands cradled her ass, palming the full cheeks as he pulled her tighter against him, the broad stretch of his shoulders and wide frame looming over her as he sat up, making her petite figure appear downright dainty. There was a wide, almost hopeful look in her eyes that roused in him the dueling instincts to tuck her beneath his chin and just fucking hold her, whilst also urging him to have her squirming beneath him as he impaled her on his cock.

"Do you need me to fuck you, quick and dirty, right here, on the couch? To make a real mess of you?" he asked softly, dipping his head down until the tip of his nose could glide along her cheek, his warm breath causing her skin to pebble, her nipples tightening. "Or do you want me to take you to bed? To strip you down to your skin and fuck you until you beg me to stop?"

It still startled her sometimes how well he knew her, how he could read her and anticipate her needs with just a look, his words as depraved as the thoughts flickering through her mind. He nuzzled behind her ear, his stubble tickling her already sensitive skin. Her head lolled to the side, and her eyelids drooped as she released her bottom lip with a wet pop and wound a hand in his hair, keeping him anchored to her. She turned her face toward him, her wet, plush mouth brushing against his jaw as her skin flushed hotly.

She released a shaky breath slowly, her eyelids fluttering, threatening to close as her arousal twisted and knotted in her stomach. "Take me to bed," she whispered, her words spilling out hot and urgent.

She gasped, a high, sweet sound that made him burn, fire heating in his veins and coiling in his stomach as he stood, the slow pulse of his blood filtering through his body and down to his cock leaving him with a warm, heavy feeling that wasn't wholly uncomfortable. She pulled herself up his frame, half climbing his body until he hoisted her up high enough to wrap her legs around his waist, his hands settling on her ass for leverage.

Bee loved how effortless it seemed for him to hold her like this, no strain apparent in his features as he stared deeply, darkly, into her eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck, fingers twisting in the hair at his nape, unable to control the way her heart beat wildly against her ribcage, the brush of soft flannel against her taut, swollen nipples making them ache and throb.

It was unconscious, the way she gravitated toward him, her body pulled by an invisible force, her lips trembling in want as she pressed herself closer, pulling her body tighter against his. Her face tipped back, his nose dragging along the line of hers as his lips parted, his breath fanning out across her skin. Her mouth opened, expectant, wanting, as he dipped forward, his mouth skimming hers, the pressure so fleeting she wasn't certain that they'd touched. A high whine of protest rose in the back of her throat when he drew back slightly, the hand cupping her throat the only thing grounding her as he tipped his head in the opposite direction before slanting his mouth across hers, roughly crushing their lips together.

He didn't just kiss her, he devoured her mouth with an intensity that she could feel all the way down to her toes, his mouth demanding, controlling. She responded in kind, attacking his mouth with the same depth and fervor he'd granted her, the coarseness of his stubble rasping lightly against her cheeks and chin. Their tongues battled for dominance, soft pants escaping their parted lips as they dueled, neither backing down from the challenge the other presented. Teeth nipped viciously, flesh giving way beneath assault as they tugged back and forth, the power exchange more for show than fueled by real intent.

She wasn't even aware that they had been moving until he stumbled into their bedroom, pressing her back against the wall as he fumbled for the lights. A low, throaty groan reverberated through his chest as his mouth latched onto her throat, trailing hot, wet, feverish kisses down the column of her neck. He was more aggressive than he had been with her mouth, the light scrape of his teeth and the lave of his tongue making her toes curl and her insides tremble, clenching, tightening in need. His breath was hot and the scrape of his stubble felt like sandpaper against her sensitive skin as his mouth laved a path downward.

Her fingers raked through the thick stubble covering his jaw almost as if in retaliation, the dull sting of her nails going straight to his cock. His grasp on her slackened, slowly lowering her down his body, the thick, hot, rigid line of his cock dragging between her legs. The thin material of his sweats did little to provide a buffer against her admittedly skimpy shorts, Bee able to feel inch of him against her. Soft, wet lips parted against his collarbone, unable to contain the low, keening whine that squeezed out of her chest. The sound was disjointed and raw, her hands clutching onto his shoulders, nails biting into his skin.

Her mouth dragged down his chest as he lowered her to the ground, the way he shuddered, ropes of muscles contracting beneath his skin making her heady with lust. His muscles looked thicker, more prominent up close, rippling and bunching beneath her mouth as she pressed her lips against his flesh. She wound her fingers in the drawstring of his sweats and pulled him even closer with a sharp tug. He stumbled a step forward, pliant beneath the manipulation of her hands, the drawstrings still taut in her fingers. His breath was shallow, his chest puffing with each breath, every part of his body taut with restraint, his control crumbling with each touch.

Her neck craned as she tried to look up past his chest to meet his eyes, his hands braced against the wall on either side of her head, trapping her in place. Her stomach trembled, the sight of his blown out pupils sending her pulse thrumming beneath her skin, his usually grey eyes stormy in the low light of the room. She didn't shy away from his gaze, the way he pursued her body, raking his eyes over her form like he was attempting to undress her with his gaze alone. Instead, she reveled in it, knowing with a kind of certainty that she felt deeply in her soul that he would never hurt her.

Addie was a man that defied reason and belief, and perhaps she'd known that from the moment he'd first approached her. Perhaps, she had unconsciously chosen him understanding on a deeper, more visceral level that he was the kind of man who would compel her strength, and make enormous demands of her without ever doubting her ability to withstand whatever he threw at her. Because, somehow, he'd managed to sand down the edges of her fiery, self-confident personality that she wore like armor until she became something altogether other. It had taken time and patience for her to let her guard down enough to be that vulnerable around him. Because while Bee may not have grown up in the system, that hadn't guaranteed her the level of stability or support needed for her to escape her childhood unscathed.

He dipped his head down, the dark amusement dancing in his gaze telling her that he would allow her to have control for now, but that he held the power to overthrow her rule of his body at any moment. There was no mistaking that she couldn't move or force him to do anything if he didn't allow it, and maybe she shouldn't have reacted so strongly to that, but she was certain that if she were to dip her fingers beneath the band of her underwear, she'd find her essence hot and dripping as it coated her digits.

Her fingers flexed, curling around the waistband of his sweats, the tips dipping beneath the fabric. The heat of his skin scalded her, the sparse curls of his pubic hair coarse as they tickled the pads of her fingers. Her breath hitched, her brain momentarily forgetting how to take in oxygen before she sucked in a shuddering breath, fingers tightening, inadvertently dragging the cotton of his sweats down over the sensitive ridge of his cock. He hissed, hips jerking as his cock throbbed, twitching with the new pulse of blood that filled it, the skin stretched taut around his swollen girth.

He swallowed tightly, his tongue dry and heavy in his mouth, and his lips going a little slack at the feel of her hand slipping beneath the waistband of his sweats, forcing the fabric to slip down further over his hips. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, an almost startled snuffle escaping him as she ducked her head, placing needy, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of his ribs. Her hands delved further into his pants, delicately trailing over his cock, mapping the ridges and veins along the hot, rigid line of his length.

He'd always thought it obscene, the way she looked with his cock in her hands. Her small, delicate fingers would stretch fruitlessly, trying to wrap her hands around the girth of it, his cock, much like the rest of him, too thick, too large for her to handle with the kind of finesse she desired. Addie had never been one to brag about the size of his cock, but as much as he liked to downplay it, his size was generous, maybe even more so than that if the few women who had balked at taking him were anything to go by. He wasn't monstrous, or even in the realm of anything that would be considered beastly, but yeah, he was above average, and Bee was the smallest woman he'd ever been with.

She felt drunk, her movements sluggish and drowsy, him so thick in her grasp, the weight of his cock in her palm dizzying. She gripped him firmly, yet gently, caressing him in her fist as she stroked his cock in long, slow strokes, reveling in the stutter of his breathing, his body stiffening, muscles locking. It was exhilarating, the way she seemed to hold him entirely in the palm of her hand, the precum leaking from the slit at the crown of the engorged head dribbling down her wrist and onto her fingers.

It wasn't simply want that fuelled her—to call it that would be to diminish how she felt in that moment. It was an intensity that rocked her, that made her thighs tense and her insides tremble, spasming and quivering as a gush of wetness saturated her underwear, her inner thighs slick with it.

She sucked and bit his skin, intent on marking him, feeling the shift of muscles beneath her mouth as he shuddered, her nails raking over his nipple, the slight fissure of pain sparking the fire already blazing inside him. Her touch was maddening, the way she pumped his cock stimulating to the point that he was uncomfortably hard, the ache in his balls ebbing and flowing with each pulse of blood, but not enough to get him off.

He grunted, a low, guttural sound that went straight to her cunt, her so needy and craving for him to stretch and fill her that her legs buckled beneath her. He caught her, hands fitting to her hips, curling possessively around her supple flesh, his control snapping as he, in one swift movement, lifted her up off her feet, easily manhandling her over his shoulder. Her breath escaped her in a hot gush of air, her fingers scrabbling to find purchase on his back as he raised himself to his full height, and turned toward the bed.

He would have liked to say that he strode confidently across the room, but with his cock as hard as it was, his gait was a little awkward, not quite a limp, but nothing close to smooth. He set her down on the edge of the mattress, pressing a knee between hers, the touch of his skin against her inner thighs making goosebumps rise on her skin as he loomed over her. He didn't touch her, but the weight of his presence as he pressed forward was enough to force her back into the bed, her elbows the only thing keeping her from falling flat on her back.

His chest rose and fell sharply, trying to breath through the pressure crushing his sternum, the urge to feel her, to touch her, to fuck her suddenly overwhelming. He felt slightly unhinged as he lowered his mouth, his lips hungry as they hunted desperately across her skin. They dragged across her collarbone and down to where the plump swells of her breasts peeked out from between the lapels of his plaid shirt, lingering over where her heart thrummed wildly. He teased her, slowly easing the buttons open, the soft flannel dragging over her swollen nipples as he parted the fabric, baring her breasts fully.

There had once been a time when the heated stare he was giving her, his eyes raking hungrily over her form, would have made her self conscious. But three years and countless sex had given Bee the security in knowing that he didn't care if her stomach was soft or lined with stretch marks, or if her breasts had lost some of their perkiness. He drank in the sight of her full, swollen breasts, the large, upturned globes capped by fat, puffy nipples, her olive toned skin glowing in the low light of the room, and the heave of her chest begging him to touch her.

He cupped her breasts, the calloused pads of his fingers rough against her skin. He fondled and palmed the plump swells, tugging and twirling the sensitive, swollen buds of her nipples. He mouthed a path down, pausing to taste her, to wrap his lips around her nipple, to flick his tongue out over the puffy bud. Her back arched, high, sweet gasps of barely contained arousal falling from her parted lips as he switched over. His fingers slipped over tender, wet flesh while his mouth engulfed the other breast, determined to give each breast equal attention.

His breath was hot and the rasp of his stubble against her sensitive skin had her desperate and dripping for something tangible and solid between her legs, the need to buck and seek out friction strengthening by the minute. She grappled for control over her body, and its reactions, her limbs like putty in his hands, ready to be molded and formed to his will.

He unraveled her slowly, loving the way she fought it, the way she refused to give in easily to the pleasure, withholding her desire from him in a bid for him to take it, to force it from her. His touch was gentle, yet firm as it danced across her soft skin, caressing her body beneath his palms with a certain amount of care that he reserved solely for her.

He was wholly unapologetic for how he teased her. His lips skimmed along the underside of her breast, dragging across the bow of her ribcage before ducking down to dip the tip of his tongue in her navel. Each touch was designed to rile her up, to leave her suspended without any true hope for satisfaction until she surrendered herself to him. His fingers hooked in the waistband of her shorts, tugging the offending garment down her olive toned thighs along with her underwear until she was bare before him. He sank down between her thighs, his knees hitting the carpet with a muted thud as he pressed his face against the soft skin of her stomach. He cradled the swell of her small mound in his palm, letting out a shuddering breath at the feel of her bare, soft folds pouting down against his hand, the silken flesh slippery wet and gushing buttery soft cream as it parted beneath the pressure of his touch.

He slipped a finger between her folds, a low, guttural moan reverberating through his chest as her essence coated his fingers, hot and slick. He probed gently, swiping his fingers down through her cunt, gathering her juices around her entrance before penetrating her achingly slowly. He thumbed her clit, feeling her tense slightly when he added a second then a third finger in quick succession inside her, her walls struggling to stretch around the intrusion of his fingers.

Addie marveled at how small and tight she still was despite the years they'd been together, the muscles of her cunt clinging to his digits like a vice, drawing them deeper inside her. His fingers were so much bigger than her own, easily filling her up in a way that Bee found impossible to accomplish. Her hips undulated, humping his hand, the friction they created sending shivers of pleasure down her spine. She didn't hide from him, uninhibited in the throes of passion, the flush of her cheeks, and the way her hair continually fell in her eyes captivating him.

She whimpered, almost sobbing as he withdrew his hand, grasping the back of her thighs, lifting them, the width of his shoulders forcing them open wide. He trailed wet, open-mouthed kisses down the insides of her thighs, punctuating each kiss by the gentle nip of his teeth. The feel of her flesh giving way beneath his teeth had lust spiking in his veins, a frantic burst of blood throbbing through his body down to his erection. His hips flexed lazily, his cock aching and engorged, the bulbous tip leaking, weeping pearls of slick fluid that dripped down his shaft. He could feel his brain buzzing, agitated with the sexual frustration bearing down on him like a heavy weight, his balls heavy and taut with cum.

This was part, he had decided long ago, of what made the act of cunnilingus such an intense experience, his own arousal sharp, almost crushing in its fervor, yet ignored in favor of hers. He didn't do it out of some form of selflessness, but because it gave him this sense of power, this sense of control, her pleasure held solely in his grip without the distraction of his own to cloud his mind.

He could feel every reaction, every twitch, spasm, and jerk of her body, hear every sound he forced out from between her lips, experience firsthand the sight of every orgasm orchestrated by his touch, and only his touch. Perhaps, it was some prehistoric instinct that fueled him, a vicious, animalistic urge, and yet, with her beneath him, her body both tense and pliant beneath his touch, he couldn't bring himself to care.

The soft skin of her inner thighs were red from the rasp of his stubble, and from the bruises where he'd marked her, sucked her flesh into her mouth until blood, hot and pumping, rose to the surface, littering her skin like starburst galaxies. He edged closer, watching the way the muscles in her legs strained and trembled in anticipation at the feel of his breath against her sensitive, vulnerable flesh. He reached out, using the pad of his thumb to open her to his gaze, the soft, bare folds of her cunt flushed and glistening with creamy slickness that bubbled forth, leaking out and dripping down the curve of her body.

She was keening and begging, profanity intermingling with her breathless pants, her voice slowly tapering off as he dipped his head down, finally giving them both what they needed. She gasped sharply, her back arching, and her toes curled as her hands shot forward, tangling in the unruly mass of curled waves on top of his head.

Bee had always enjoyed the way Addie went down on her, how he pulled her tightly against his face, the pads of his fingers digging mercilessly into her ass as he nuzzled against her, the bridge of his nose grazing her clit as he inhaled her concentrated scent. He didn't rush, didn't immediately dive in, instead allowing himself to get reaquainted with her most intimate flesh.

His approach was both languid and urgent, the dip of his tongue between her swollen folds leading into a broad swipe that opened her up more fully, giving him the chance to really taste her from the source. He was unafraid to show his eagerness and lust, sliding face first into her cunt, kissing and licking her firmly, savoring her flavor as she gushed hot, slick wetness onto his tongue.

She melted back into the bed, reflexively clenching and smoothing out his hair with her fingers, alternating between pulling his face deeper against her and pushing him away. The shallow, almost lazy curl of his invading fingers combined with the soft, yet firm pull of his lips, and the practiced lash of his tongue robbed her of words. She arched, soft mewls and pants slipping unchecked from between her lips, the twisted strands of pleasure and friction against her sensitive flesh leaving her breathless. She squirmed, hips rolling gently, her teeth moving to dig into her bottom lip every time he found a particularly good spot. He teased her clit, beginning gently, softly mouthing against it before rolling it between his lips, letting the soft cushion of his mouth caress and nibble.

Her first orgasm was always the one Addie had to work for, her thighs tensing around his head, trying to subdue him, Bee suddenly feeling too sensitive, too exposed. Undeterred, he reached out, winding an arm around her hips, the thick ropes of muscles in his arm straining in an effort to keep her tethered to the bed as she writhed beneath him, her hips desperately trying to buck and twist out of his grip.

"Can't..." she mumbled, her voice straining, forced out in a burst of noise before it was strangled by a high pitched whine, the sound more like that of an injured animal than a woman.

His eyes darted back and forth between her pussy and her face, gauging her reactions and adjusting accordingly. playing her body just right, his fingers moving confidently, feeling her clench and spasm around them, needily sucking him deeper. She didn't scream or thrash as she came, her orgasm a slow, rolling climax that ebbed and flowed over every part of her. Her toes curled, and her thighs tensed as she quivered, twitching against his mouth, the flutter of his tongue and the thrust of his fingers twisting, curling inside her, edging her through her orgasm. Soft mewls of pleasure passed her lips, panted out in long, drawn gasps of air, her nose, straight with a slight upturned tip, crinkling.

She was at her most unguarded after she came, a soft sigh of both pleasure and satisfaction escaping her swollen lips, lingering in the air. She lay spread out across the bed, her chest heaving, nipples thick and swollen, the light sheen of sweat and the flush of blood that simmered to the surface of her skin giving her body a subtle, golden glow. He watched as she ran a hand through the snarl of her loose curls, pushing the damp strands back, out of her face, never once opening her eyes. She reminded him of a cat lying out in the sun, the slow, almost lazy curl of her body as she twisted, turning over to lie on her stomach decidedly feline.

She stretched, arching her back, the slopes of her shoulder blades flowing down to the dip in the small of her back, the two dimples that rested above her ass winking at him. He'd traced each mole and freckle along the curve of her spine a million times, created constellations, formed galaxies across the expanse of her skin, her a night sky waiting to be explored, discovered.

She hiked one leg up, wanton and unafraid as she opened herself up to him again, her cunt pink and open. Her breathing was shallow, and her eyes remained closed, and, had he not known better, he would have thought her to be sleeping. But he knew, saw her little act for what it was; a silent plea for more, her needy and craving for him to stretch and fill her little cunt.

He wiped the back of his hand across his glistening mouth, the bristles of his stubble rasping against his palm, her juices sweet and slick and dripping off his chin. He wasn't quite aware of himself, his mind and body separate entities as he pulled himself up onto his feet, standing over her naked and erect, his cock so swollen that the physical ache of being that hard was painful. He stepped forward until his knees hit the edge of the bed, the knuckles of his balled hands white from holding back the urge to just drive his cock inside her, to impale her roughly on his cock and just fuck her raw.

Because, as much as every cell in his body cried out for him to do just that, he wasn't so far gone as to realize that he couldn't, not if he wanted her to be able to walk in the next day or two. He had to work up to being as rough as he craved right then, to loosen her body around his cock until it was ready to take him fully and without restraint. Being conscientious about how he approached sex was one of the prerequisites of dating a girl that he could practically house in his pocket. He had never seen it as a hindrance. It was just simply another facet of being in a relationship where their height and size difference played a predominant role.

She licked her plump lips, the air crackling with an electricity she could almost taste on the tip of her tongue, her senses sharpening, focusing with needle point precision on every shift and breath he made behind her. The bed dipped next to her as he pressed a knee into the mattress, the soft, wet gasp that escaped her swollen lips needy as his hand delved into her hair, threading through her thick, loose, black curls, his grip half controlling, half caressing. She was pliant, limbs jellied beneath his firm, unrelenting hold, her body melting into his touch as her eyelids fluttered closed. He coaxed her head back, the delicate curve of her spine arching as she raised herself up slowly, cautiously, until she was on her hands and knees.

She swallowed tightly, lifting her face, eyes closed, throat exposed submissively for his inspection. She knew it would spark in him the complex and, perhaps contradictory, darker side of him that seethed beneath the surface of all his civility. She was acutely aware of how the heel of his palm dug into the base of her spine, pressing her deeper into the mattress, forcing her knees to spread wider until she was completely open and vulnerable to his gaze.

Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, holding back the mischievous grin that threatened to spread across her mouth as she swayed her hips, the supple globes of her ass thrust up and out like a ripe offering. His cock, thick and swollen, brushed lightly against the plump swell of her ass cheek, the brief touch a tease to his already sensitive, aching flesh.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, his reaction instantaneous. His hand flew across the curve of her ass, smacking her with just enough force for her to feel the sting of it without really hurting her. He'd indulged in this particular kind of play enough times to know how to hit her without bruising her skin, the delicate balance of giving her what she wanted without jeopardizing or compromising on his own beliefs perfected. Her body jerked—more from the unexpectedness of it than actual force—ripples of pleasure shooting down her spine.

She choked back a cry, her eyelids fluttering as the grin she'd been suppressing curled up the corners of her mouth. Her body hummed, impatient for his touch, needing it harder, rougher, the spank he'd given her only serving to make her wetter, the satin folds of her pussy slick with it.

Her scalp burned from the tight grip he had on her hair, her neck straining, the pain stoking her feral, wanton, hot need. She sucked on her teeth, a low hum reverberating low in her throat. "I didn't feel that, _papacito_. You wanna try that again?" she murmured, voice low and sultry with a rolling lilt that betrayed her Guatemalan roots.

Her words were designed to break through the last of his restraint, to draw his rough edges out of their hiding place. Addie was protective of her, she knew that. Not in an overbearing, obsessive way, but in a way that showed he took painstaking care to make sure Bee knew she was treasured, whilst understanding that she could take care of herself. But in that moment, she needed him to love her too hard, too kiss her too roughly, to hold her so tightly that she couldn't breathe. She needed to feel him linger on her skin, to carry the ache of him with her for days. She wanted to fall asleep and wake up with him still inside her, fucking her, pinning her beneath him body as he claimed her over and over again.

"Yes," she hissed as he spanked her fleshy cheek again, harder, pinkening her flesh. The sting of his hand against her skin was harsh, lingering in her nerves in a way that tingled, the subtle eroticism of being marked, of being put in her place leaving her almost vibrating in lust.

He loosened his grip on her hair, letting her head fall forward as he lined himself up behind her, the sound of her shaky exhale as he pressed the wide, blunt tip of his cock against her cunt making his pulse quicken. Even swollen and ready, the naked folds of her slick flesh were tight, fighting the invasion of his cock as the tip nestled between her tiny lips. His hand fitted to her hip, curling around her supple flesh, fingers digging possessively into her skin as he guided his cock into her.

He flexed his hips, her entrance, at first, resistant, unyielding beneath the pressure he exerted against it, the flared head of his cock seemingly too large to fit into her small body. "Relax for me, baby," he murmured hoarsely. "Let me in."

She let out a whine that resounded high in the back of her throat, the sound high pitched, yet soft, lilting, her fingers clenching weakly in the sheets as he nudged his hips forward again. Her pelvis tipped back, the instinctual part of her brain taking over, coaxing her hips to roll and rock, to grind back against his cock, trying to ease his thick girth into her gently.

She jolted against him, a guttural groan forcing its way up past her lips as he drove the head of his engorged cock into her, hard but not cruelly so. Her eyes rolled back into her head, her mind, for a moment, completely overcome by the sensations coursing through her body before the clogs of her brain, once again, began turning. Her mind raced back over the last few weeks, trying to figure when the last time they'd had sex was. Because for him to stretch her this painfully wide meant that her muscles had tightened up in his absence.

She collapsed down onto her elbows, tears burning in the corners of her eyes, the hot drag of his cock as he slid a little deeper inside her making her cry out. It was an excruciating kind of pleasure, each twinge of pain accompanied by a rush of pleasure as the wide crown of his cock spread her open, forcibly tearing its way into her body. She let herself whine at the stretch, grunting with the effort of taking his cock, sweat beading on her forehead as she reached between her legs. Trembling fingers skittered along the length of his cock that he had yet to impale her on, calculating how much she had left to take. Her breaths were harsh and loud in her ears, the way her head dipped down causing her hair to tumble around her shoulders, creating a curtain that obscurred her face.

Addie was incapable of being as gentle as he wanted to be, as he needed to be, but the way she flourished beneath his rough touch, arching against him as she forced herself to take more of his cock into her little body, undid him. He wondered, the thought both perverse and sadistic in nature, whether she could feel him in the back of her throat, if he had pressed himself so deeply inside her that the pressure extended throughout her body. She gushed, her cunt dripping liquid heat all over his cock as she strained, unable to curb the tearless sob that bubbled up from deep within her chest.

He pressed into her in slow, steady thrusts, rocking deeper and deeper until she was sure she was going to tear from it. She let out a long, pained moan, unsure if she was enjoying herself or not, her walls throbbing as they stretched to accommodate him, gaping open around his thick girth. He released her hips, already able to make out the finger shaped bruises marking her skin as he reached around her body, his hands snaking beneath her arms until they had a firm grip on her shoulders. She fisted the sheets, her knuckles going white as he pulled her back forcefully, practically folding her half as he sank the last inch of his cock inside her, cramming her full of his cock.

She cried out in perfect, exquisite agony, burying her face into the mattress and biting down on the sheets with a hoarse snarl, feeling each ridge of his cock rubbing up inside her. Her hand shot out behind her, clutching the back of his thigh and holding him against her, silently begging for him to give her a moment to adjust. His hips rested flush against her ass, and yet she could feel him flexing forward, seeking an even deeper depth, pushing to the point of pain.

She wasn't sure for how long they stayed like that until her death drip on his thigh loosened, her nails sure to have drawn blood as she relaxed back into the bed. "Fuck," she breathed hoarsely, a weak burst of laughter spilling out, her cheeks wet with the few tears that had spilled. "God baby, have you grown since the last time you fucked me?" She couldn't help the note of incredulity that slipped into her tone as she spoke, the feeling of being split in two and pieced back together all at once overwhelming.

He chuffed out a laugh as he pulled his hips back, slowly, letting her feel every inch until only the swollen tip rested inside her, keeping her open. "If anything, you got smaller," he grunted, punctuating his words with a thrust. Her cunt fought his return inside of her, reflexively clenching and fluttering around the thick, swollen girth, the fucking circumference, of his cock, both of them fully aware that the burn and smart of her muscles fed into her masochistic tendencies.

"God, you bastard," she panted out, the heat of her words diminished by the huff of laughter that accompanied them. Because she lived for this, for this feeling of being so thoroughly ruined, only to be stitched back together piece by piece until she became something altogether other. If there was anything that she had learned in her adult life, it was that sex wasn't a prettily packaged product you could find on a shelf. It was messy, dirty, and it didn't come with instructions. And yes, sometimes it hurt, but for her, it hurt in only the best of ways, and for that, she wouldn't change it for anything in the world.

She brushed the stray strands of hair clinging to her sweat slicked skin out of her face, only able to begin to imagine what she looked like; her skin flushed red, hair a tangle of curls, and her teeth bared into a snarl making her look more ready for war than for sex. She canted her hips, body undulating, her lungs trapped behind her ribs, each breath a shuddering gasp. Her shoulders pulled back, her glazed gaze staring intently at the far wall, lips parted and eyelids fluttering at every particularly powerful sensation.

A part of her was bound and determined to come out the other side of this encounter bruised and battered, and she didn't care if that made her a little 'sick' or 'twisted.' Here, in her bedroom, her lover doing a good job of making her cunt unfit for anyone but him to have, she was free to want and need whatever she wanted. And she would be damned before she would ever give anyone the satisfaction of taking that freedom away from her.

His hands grasped the fleshy curves of her hips, using his grip to keep her pinned in place, the way she squirmed, her walls attempting to crush his cock in a wet, hot vice almost enough to bring him to his knees. He risked a glance down between them, his lips slackening at the sight of the taut lips of her cunt gaping around his cock, struggling to stretch around his thick shaft. How he didn't break her he wasn't sure, but, God, was he ever thankful for it.

His thrusts were long and deep, drawn out to the point of agony. It wasn't agony so much in the physical sense, as it was that the friction their bodies were creating each time his hips snapped against her ass forced a delicious crawl of exquisite, agonizing pleasure to wrack through her body. It encompassed every inch of her body, and she quivered, the strain of taking him into her body only serving to spark her arousal, not dim it.

She moaned, the sound a desperate, wanton plea for more as he pulled her back into him to greet the lunge of his hips, the slap of their skin filling the room. The rhythm changed, the pace he'd set becoming rougher and quicker, the rocking and swiveling of his hips pushing her deeper into the bed. She reared up onto her hands, pushing back against him, feeling the heat of his almost feverish skin emanating into the space between their bodies. She tipped her head back, the needy whine that rose high in her throat enough for him to understand what she craved from him. He clinched her hair in his fist, forcing her head back until he could slant his mouth across hers, both of them breathing hotly into the others mouth.

There was no finesse to the kiss. It was not neat or controlled. It was slack lips and slick, wet tongues tangling sloppily, the barbell running through his tongue clicking against her teeth. His other hand rose, snaking up between her breasts to caress her throat with a delicacy that belied the way he penetrated her. She could feel the pads of his fingers digging into her neck, not harshly or in an effort to cut off her breathing, just letting her feel his strength, his power, and she felt a shiver of arousal at how easy it would be for him to break her.

He shifted forward, pressing a knee into the mattress beside hers for better leverage, his hips faltering slightly as he got caught up in her mouth. Their mouth collided sharply, crudely, rough yet almost achingly slow, languid but urgent, the pressure he exerted bruising as he forced their lips to connect harder. It was both hard and desperate, soft yet needy, the mix of shallow, open-mouthed kisses and clashing teeth and hungry tongues heady.

He broke the kiss, lungs burning, and his lips swollen as they ghosted across her jawline, skimming along the curve of her cheek till they reached her ear. He paused to suck on the skin just behind it that he knew drove her crazy, feeling the way her whole body shook, trembling as he drew her skin into his mouth.

With his lips so close to her ear, and his hot breath whispering against her skin she could hear him, unfiltered and unrestrained in a way that was reserved solely for her. He was loud, all sharp inhales and deep grunts that snarled from the pit of his stomach and through his clenched teeth. She could hear the needy click at the back of his throat as he choked back a moan, scraping his teeth down the naked column of her throat.

He latched onto the skin where her neck met her shoulder, the tender flesh bruising as he staked his claim over her body. The hand at her throat drifted upward, fingers running over her bottom lip, feeling the way her wet, swollen flesh gave way beneath the pressure he exerted. If she had been wearing lipstick, she was certain that it would be a mess around her mouth, smeared across her lips like a child playing dressup with her mother's makeup.

Her tongue darted out, eagerly flicking out across his invading fingers, savoring the sweet tartness she gleaned from his skin. He tasted like sex, the faint traces of her juices lingering on his skin intermingling with the flavor of his testosterone soaked sweat to create an aphrodisiac. His fingers sank into the open cavern of her mouth, her lips clumsily wrapping around them, barely having the wherewithal to suck on them.

He was relentless in the way that he took her, the rawness of his movements solidifying the fact that once he was done, she would feel the ache of him inside her for days. He spanked her ass, loving the way she reacted, her keening whimper not a disparagement, but an encouragement. He grasped a handful of her ass, fingers digging into the meat of her ample cheek, feeling it bounce and jiggle from the force of his hips snapping against it. He alternated between pulling the cheeks apart and pressing them together, the cheeks of her ass spreading wide enough for him to see her pink, little rosebud winking at him.

The very thought of sinking his cock in her ass when her cunt could barely take him was a fantasy he barely dared to entertain. It had surfaced on more than one occasion, but he'd never dared bring it up with Bee, him knowing the very real possibility that his fantasy would outweigh the actual execution of such an endeavour. To fit his cock inside a hole that was even smaller, even tighter, than the one he was currently inside was bound to hurt her, her muscles only able to stretch so much before they tore. And while Bee got off to the pain that came from having sex with a man who outweighed her by close to one hundred pounds and stood over a foot taller than her, Addie was sure that even she understood her body's limits.

He withdrew his fingers, the wet slurp of her mouth as she released them making it seem all the more obscene. It was the primal side of him that enjoyed the feel of her saliva dripping off his hand as he grasped her breast roughly, the upturned globe spilling over his fingers, her nipple thick and swollen between his index and middle fingers.

She was sore and sensitive, her breasts throbbing, aching in his large, calloused palm, her nipples so tender that even the slightest brush of his fingers sent sharp pinpricks of heat shooting straight to her cunt. She could barely think, her thoughts scattered and disjointed, her so hot, burning with a sexual want that threatened to erupt at the slightest provocation. She rolled and swiveled her supple hips, matching every thrust, unable to stop herself grinding back on his cock, so thick and swollen buried inside her, her so greedy for more.

To simply call what they were doing sex, was to not fully realize the force behind which they collided. It was physics; an unstoppable force and an immovable object crashing into each other to create a flawed paradox of two opposing philosophies. It was about the impact, the push and pull of bodies advancing and retreating, neither faltering or pausing in their assault of each other.

His left knee joined the right on the bed, shifting the angle of his thrusts so that he was bearing down over her, his body eclipsing hers. She could feel the ripple of his muscles, the way his thighs tensed, forcing her legs further apart as he rutted into her, his cock nudging against her cervix with each surge of his hips.

She was too high on the knowledge of being owned, of being so thoroughly possessed, to fight him when he forced her face first into the bedding, one hand situating itself at the base of her throat, whilst the other pressed into the small of her back. He held her in place, not just physically but mentally, conquering both her mind and body in one swift movement. She felt no will to try and squirm out of his hold, her body melting against the mattress, her most vulnerable self on display.

Perhaps, it should have frightened her, being that bare, every part of her stripped and flayed open until she became an open husk, nothing concealed or hidden from his gaze, but her desire, in that moment, transcended rational thought. The depravity of lying beneath him as he fucked her, her body held immobile as he used it to slake his thirst, his lust, was not lost on her. He did it so unapologetically, her suddenly reduced to a thing, an insignificant part of his pleasure, until she was nothing more than a hole to be fucked.

The masochist inside her crowed in delight at the notion, the perverse thrill of being nothing more than a placeholder for his cock a secret desire that resided in the deepest, darkest recess of her fantasies. Perhaps, it was because it reinforced the fact she was his, his to fuck, to use and abuse as he wished, and she'd spent a lifetime trying to find even a slither of that kind of ownership from a man. Because to allow someone to have such liberties with your body, was to give them the deepest, most concrete kind of trust. Trust that they would not harm, or take advantage, and she sank into the sensation of it, her mind clouding over as she gave herself over to it fully.

There was no mercy in the way that he took her, never slowing down or softening the blow of his thrusts, his earlier promise of fucking her until she begged him to stop coming into fruition. She was drunk, intoxicated by the endless torment he assaulted her body with, her body reduced to a limp mess of limbs, and yet she had never felt more alive.

"Beg me," he bit out in a snarl. "Beg me to stop."

A flare of lust battered through her body like a highly explosive mix of chemicals, the desire, the passion that spilled over her, brimming over the edge of her sanity. She was barely aware of her mouth moving, her babbling, practically sobbing as she begged him to stop.

"No more. Can't...neurgh! Fuck! Just...hmmm...slow, baby. Go easy. Please...just...Shit! Stop," she whined, voice hoarse.

He ignored her, too busy corrupting her with his savagery, more beast than man, the cloak of civility that had rested upon his shoulders torn and trampled under foot. It was basic need, an innate desire not based on logic. A carnality that was so instinctual that she could do nothing but submit to it. She was a raw, open pulse of need, greedy, desperate for more. She startled as she felt his fingers graze her swollen clit, the hand that had been at the small of her back now between her legs. He plucked and coaxed her body, enticing sounds to bubble up from deep within her, the pitch of her cries steadily climbing higher the closer she ascended toward the peak of her climax.

She knew, could tell without looking at him, that he was as close as she was. For as long as they had been together, Addie had, at some point, become an extension of her own body, his tells as ingrained, as recognizable, as her own. He became rougher, fingers flexing, his grip tightening as he drove his cock harder, his pace more erratic, frantic in its race to reach the finish line.

The fire rolling and churning in her stomach shot downward, the flames licking at her cunt erupting into a furnace at the friction his frenzied pace created. Her orgasm was harsh and unrestrained as it hit, her body an overload of sensations rolling and crashing down over her like a storm. She didn't have the words to explain the overwhelming, violent urgency that overtook her, her entire body shaking with it.

Her walls collapsed around his cock, her muscles fluttering and clinging to it, as he, abruptly, pulled out of her. He gritted his teeth against the groan that bubbled up his throat, his balls tight and tingling hot. His pulse thrummed wildly just beneath the thin layer of skin that protected the carotid artery beneath his jaw, the sound of his fist furiously pumping his cock, her juices working as a lubricant, only adding to the eroticism. He felt as though he had not cum in weeks as the first spurt erupted from the tip, arching up in a thick rope as it splattered across her ass and back.

He felt lightheaded at the intensity of his orgasm, his hand still furiously jacking his cock, milking spurt after spurt of hot, salty cum, painting her skin with it. It took several seconds before he was finished, his cock still spasming and twitching as cum continued to dribble down his shaft from the slit, a gooey strand bridging between his cock and her plump ass.

He felt her go limp beneath him as he collapsed forward, spent, both exhausted and panting for breath. He could feel the sweat and cum between their bodies, slick and sticky as it was, yet he couldn't bring himself to care. He groaned, burying his face in the top of her head, too tired to move, yet aware enough to support at least half of his weight so as not to completely crush her.

They lay in a tangled heap, satiated, her trapped beneath him, lost in the delicious paradox of being crushed and cradled, the broad stretch of his body curling around her delicate frame. She could feel the lines of his masculine body pressing against the curve of her spine, the rise and fall of his chest expanding and contracting soothing. She felt fragile, breakable, like she would have shattered if it weren't for his solid weight keeping her grounded, the small tremors running beneath the surface of her skin making her tremble and shiver.

She was sore, acutely aware of every place he'd touched, the ache of him lingering, throbbing inside her, her skin tender, and her scalp tingling. The aftershocks of the pleasure he had wrought flared faintly within her, to weak to be rekindled, but strong enough to glow dully beneath her skin.

Bee wasn't sure for how long they lay there, just basking in the post cotial afterglow of sex before Addie reluctantly peeled himself away, rolling to lie next to her on his side. He turned his face to look at him, allowing himself the time to admire her nude form, his cock laying soft against his thigh, sensitive and still drooling.

She was a mess, streaked with his cum, the milky fluid drying on her skin. He could see a glob in her hair from where some had landed across her neck, reaching further than he had expected. A part of him wanted to leave her like that, to take her out and parade her through the streets, but a stronger part of him just wanted to stay where he was, drinking in the sight of her, bruised and marked, and so thoroughly his.

She felt cold and exposed without his body covering hers, shivers tingling hotly on her cooling skin, her body shuddering in response to the contrasting temperatures. She blinked lazily over at him through the tendrils of hair clinging stubbornly to her skin, eyes heavy lidded and swollen lips wet as she stared at him, her cheek pressed into the bedding. She turned her face into the mattress, wiping away some of the sweat and drool on her face before pushing herself up just enough to drape her upper half over his body. He hissed, his skin too raw and hot for contact, yet reluctant to deny her anything she asked of him.

"You still love me?" she asked, eyes fluttering shut as her lips moved against his chest over where his heart thundered against his ribcage.

He reached up, threading a hand through her hair, their position reminiscent of how they had began their evening. "Course," he mumbled in response, nonplussed, his eyes drifting shut.

"Hmmm, good. Cause these sheets need changing and since you practically fucked me into a coma, you're gonna have do it."

He chuckled, raking a hand through the damp strands of his hair, eyes still shut. "We might have to clean ourselves up first."

"Can't move," she responded stubbornly.

He peeled back his eyelids, taking a moment to stare vacantly at the light mounted above their bed before forcing himself to move. He sat up, ignoring her grumbles of protest as he detangled himself from her, throwing his legs over the side of the bed, and propelling himself to his feet. He strode across the room, disappearing into their adjoining bathroom.

"Addie!" she whined petulantly, stretched out across the bed, unselfconscious about her nudity. "Edward!"

If nothing else, using his given name seemed to get his attention, the hiss of the pipes and the sound of water cutting off abruptly before he appeared in the doorway. He didn't look overly impressed by her use of his name, his hate of it well known. It was one of those issues he refused to talk about, only going far enough to comment that he'd been named after his father, who, coincidentally was a piece of shit.

"Don't call me that," he said, not harshly, but firmly as he moved back over to her, washcloth in hand.

She dragged her gaze over his naked form lavishly, the thick cords of his rippling, tattooed muscles flexing as he walked toward her. She could admit that he was quite a specimen, and it made her just a little bit smug that he was hers, the scratch marks and mouth shaped bruises proving that.

"I wouldn't have had to resort to such underhand tactics if you had responded in the first place," she retorted smartly, peering over her shoulder at him as he straddled her thighs.

She hissed as he tugged her head back by her hair, her sore scalp protesting. "Watch yourself, little girl," he warned playfully.

She grinned lazily up at him. "Maybe you should make me," she suggested, wiggling her ass a little.

He chuckled. "Haven't you had enough?" he asked, releasing his grip on her hair.

He wet his lips, suddenly finding them dry as he began wiping down the curve of her back, cleaning the graceful expanse of skin of all the fluids.

"Of you? Never. Though remind me not to go that long without your cock again. That hurt like a motherfucker."

"Sorry Babe," he murmured, planting a kiss on her shoulder blade, though she was certain that he wasn't too sorry.

She couldn't find it in herself to be too fussed about it, not when he was kneading her sore muscles, digging his fingers deep into her flesh and massaging out the kinks. Because as much as she enjoyed his rough, sadistic streak, it was these moments after, when he doted on her, nuzzling, caressing, soothing the aches and pains away that left her fully satisfied.

Every brush of his mouth and fingers felt as though it was designed to nurture the sensitivity and vulnerability that had been exposed during the sex they'd just come down from. He let his actions speak louder than his words, reinforcing his adoration of her, telling her without words how much he loved her. He needed her to know that no matter what he did, or how rough he was, it was her heart, mind and soul that called to him as much as her body.

"Just be thankful I love you enough to let you cram that monster in me," she mumbled, resting her head on her folded arms, a blissful hum of contentment escaping her. She knew that by morning she'd have to deal with all the aches and pains that came with such rough sex, but right then, she was happy to just bask in the attention he was showering her with.

He outright laughed at that, unable to curb his amusement at her statement. "While I'm flattered, I wouldn't categorize my cock under 'monstrous.' I mean, it managed to fit inside you, and you're tiny."

Bee rolled her eyes. "You know, sometimes, I hate your Mr. Humble routine. Next, you're going to tell me its average."

He shrugged noncommittally at her sarcasm. "It's proportionate to the rest of my body."

"I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you're kind of a giant," she told him, gingerly pulling herself up. He shifted off her to allow her room to move to the edge of the bed, the urge to pee prevalent enough for Bee to risk braving a trip to the bathroom, despite the fact that she would have to hobble.

"Your giant," he murmured, stopping her long enough to swoop down and steal a kiss.

She hummed against his mouth. "I suppose as long as you're mine, I'll let it slide."

 **AN:** _For those that are curious, Edward got his nickname Addie from in foster care since there was an overflow of Edwards and Anthony, to differentiate, they gave each one a different derivative. So, by the time Addie got their, he ended up with an Eddie with an 'A.' And Bee, well she had the nickname of Bumblebee as a kid, and it kind of stuck._


End file.
